Chapter 2: Blink to Make it a Dream
"Katara," he said, and she gasped.
"Master Pakku!" She flung herself into his arms. With the way she was hugging him, he could have sworn she was holding on for dear life.
A soft smile settled on his face. Five years ago that would have been unheard of, but Katara always seemed to accomplish the impossible. He hugged her back. "I didn't think you missed me that much."
"I did," she replied, and he stroked her braid.
After a perfect minute where he simply basked in the blessing of holding a granddaughter, he tugged her chin up. The corner of his mouth rose when eyes like Kanna's met his. "Come on, my favorite student. It's time to show this old master what you've got."
They stepped outside into the slowly dawning light. From the chief's hill, one could see the entire city coming alive. It wasn't as grand as the capital of the Northern Water Tribe and would never be, but that was fine. The quaintness was serene.
Figures in varying hues and shades of blue stirred about. Igloos and buildings crafted a beautiful cityscape, which, Pakku had to admit, was enhanced by the three-story ice tower his grandson called a fort.
They avoided the bustle by walked along the quiet path to the sparring grounds. When they got to the walled ring, Pakku knelt by the semi-frozen water channel and touched a hand to the thin crust of ice. He breathed out slowly. Along the circumference of the ring, white frost melted into transparent liquid.
He stood and turned to Katara. Together, they went through the stretches and basic warm-ups. Pakku then beckoned at her to begin the spar, ready to be amazed. He parried and redirected and returned, waiting for that stroke of Katara genius to manifest. Not so long after the unoriginal first strike, however, the old master was forced to acknowledge that his granddaughter was being... underwhelming.
She didn't manage to redirect his biggest waves or stop his ice, and she completely failed to freeze the edges of her water whips on impact. When she flopped the powerful whirling spout that she used to perform flawlessly, Pakku had had enough.
He dropped his arms. "What. Was. That."
It killed him inside to see the delight on her face, no matter how out of place, transform to wide-eyed hurt. It wasn't hard to imagine why. After all, he hadn't used this disgusted tone on her since her first and only slacking back at the North Pole.
Nevertheless, he wouldn't letup.
"Has your time in the Fire Nation weakened you? Were you so busy playing politician that you hadn't the time to have your skill maintained? I thought you wanted to be a waterbending warrior, not a housewife!"
"I—"
"You are growing arrogant," he pronounced and turned his back. "Do the exercises on powered control and repeat all the advanced to master sets until the sun peaks. And for Tui's sake, strike your water whips with ice!" He finished his barked command and exhaled out the heat in his tone. Then, he continued, calm, and cold. "At noon I shall return and expect that you will get the King Whale's Calling right."
As he walked away, the crunch of boots on snow the only sound in a barren land, he reassured himself. Better she was hurt by him than by a hostile nation's assassins.
The assurances were true. They didn't make her devastated expression haunt his thoughts any less.
...
Katara screamed, again.
...
"You know," said the Avatar. "This is starting to get uncomfortable."
Zuko readjusted his grip on long legs and snarled. "It would be less uncomfortable if you'd just shut up."
It was almost silent in this white wasteland as they walked towards the only visible red spot for miles. Or rather, Zuko was walking. The Avatar was slumped over Zuko's shoulder.
To his back, the post-pubescent Avatar moaned. "Why, oh, why did I hand you your shoes? I should have hidden them right away. I had a schedule! Penguin sledding at daybreak, tiger-seal hopping after breakfast..."
Zuko tried to ignore the earful of babbling. With the roaring of his own thoughts, it shouldn't have been hard.
"...cave exploring after lunch... Oh hey, you should come with me, Zuko! I bet you'd love to sneak around the hidden tunnels."
Zuko... would. It sounded like thrilling physical challenges and stealthy ninja fun. Then he grew angry with himself for considering it, so, with a finesse born of practice, he channeled those negative feelings.
At the nearest available target.
"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, dropping the Avatar vindictively to the snow. His aching shoulder thanked him because that kid had grown. The snow, on the other hand, gave no indication. The boy—teen, he had to be at least Zuko's age now—landed as lightly as if he didn't exist at all.
Stupid airbender.
Said airbender clasped his hands together in plea, grey eyes coordinating. "Look, I'm sorry. I thought she was in trouble! I never would have barged in like that otherwise, I swear." He sounded very stressed as he said this. "I'm not that kind of guy."
Which was great and all, but not the explanation Zuko was looking for.
Frustration mounting, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Think. What was that Uncle had told him? Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness? Hmm... He needed answers, so maybe he should ask. "Avatar. Why am I here?"
"To fortify the bonds of family and friendship?" The incredulity Zuko felt must have shown on his face. The Avatar's pitch climbed. "To create cultural unification? To strengthen the political image of the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes? I don't know, stop looking at me like that!"
"Okay, fine! Tell me. Why are you here?"
"I just wanted to hop on the tiger-seals!" the teen cried. His lib wobbled and his voice was not quite as high as the twelve-year-old's in Zuko's memory. "I get the point, okay! Okay?" Agitated clouds of snow surged around them. "I'll bunk in Sokka's fort!"
...
Inside Sokka's fort, a snoring body fell from a chair to the floor.
"Hu? Wha?" A head of mussed brown hair shot up, sluggish arms poised to attack. When no assailants or a vengeful sister came, Sokka's blearily blinking eyes focused on the environment.
There was more junk than he had ever seen lying about. A lamp, boomerang, tapestry, wooden platform, fifty random different things which he could probably imagine a use for, and heaps upon heaps of parchment and scrolls.
His hands were also covered in these black glove things that were much thinner than mittens. They had individual fingers, and he wiggled them. Nice. Much more mobility and all the warmth.
But that didn't tell him anything about where he was or how he ended up here. Was this a secret basement in the village he didn't know about? Why would anyone hide it, especially when it had all this useful junk? He hummed, and crossed his arms, and stroked his chin for dramatic flair—
And was shocked when his gloved fingers met hair.
His fingers stilled. Carefully, oh so carefully, as if one wrong move would cause it to fall off (Let it never be said that Sokka didn't learn from experience), he stroked again.
The hair—there was more than one.
"I HAVE A BEARD!"
Crash bang thud
Oops.
Boom
He might have knocked a few things over in his little celebration. A jar was still rolling with a shhng shhng. He gently kicked it away and was surprised to see it shoot off in pile of who-knew-what. And wait... he didn't only have outward signs of strength. He... felt different. Heavier. Taller. Musclier.
He patted his legs. Patted his chest. Shoved off his parka and saw his arms—
"AHHHHH! The manliness! I can't..." and swoon. He hit the rug and sighed blissfully, kissing his bulging bicep in adoration. "I am exquisite."
For a moment he lay in the fur in silence, nuzzling his muscles contentedly as they stretched and bulged. Suddenly, there was a sound and a movement—
"I'm not flexing!" he yelped, shooting up.
Chitter, the intruder replied, cocking big white ears to the side.
"Oh." Sokka clutched the heart that was doing its best to break his ribcage. "Thank the stars you're not Katara." When his spirits had recovered enough, he added, "You look tasty."
Screech, Tiny Meat Source agreed, and jumped on the wooden platform.
Sokka hadn't paid the platform much mind earlier aside to note that it led to a hole in the ceiling and was strung up with some good rope. But then Tiny Meat Source pulled a little lever he hadn't noticed, and the platform started moving down.Sokka hastily grabbed his parka and scrambled on, and learned that the room he woke up in couldn't be a basement because the front door in this new room below it declared it as the first floor.
And it was a door. Not a flap curtain or a snow-packed hole. Like the platform, it was made of unfamiliar wood. Sokka took a deep breath and, on the count of three, pulled it open. Tiny Meat Source scampered off before him, but that hardly mattered anymore. When the door swung, Sokka stilled.
The village—it was almost like it had been before Mom's death. No—it was better.
The paved white road widened to an open square around which stalls and benches and fountains sprawled. Light snow fell upon canopies in hues from cerulean to violet as well as on the blocky buildings and softer domed igloos that rose around them. In the other direction, side streets converged to elaborate steps that led up to the grandest building of all, a magnificent many-part structure that boasted the Southern Water Tribe insignia above its great ice doors.
A bare whisper escaped Sokka's lips. "Woah."
"Rise and shine, Sokka! You're up early, for you!"
He whirled. Coming down the street with the polar-dog claw necklace, was that...? "Ratuk! You're here! I haven't seen you since—"
"Since you shut yourself in that fort of yours? You really gotta come out more!" the big man slapped him in the back, and Sokka was surprised to find that he didn't stagger. "I know you're earning loads making those plans of yours, but we're starting to miss our little war hero."
"Hwa?"
Ratuk sighed. "It seems like just yesterday you were that tiny little runt playing warrior and tagging after us all. Now, you're all grown up and more famous than any of us."
Sokka had went from offended to overwhelmed. It was a good thing that the man—who didn't seem so big anymore, to Sokka's amazement—spoke again, because Sokka was speechless. "Well, I'll be going. The fish won't catch themselves."
Then Ratuk, one of Sokka's childhood idols, weathered and burly from days sailing and hunting and fighting, held out his hand for the fellow warrior's greeting.
He was holding out for the warrior's greeting, and he was holding it out to Sokka.
Stupefied, Sokka took it.
The clasp of calloused fingers on the base of his forearm and his own hand's returning grip was invigorating. It lasted only a moment. When it was over, Ratuk was walked away.
Dumbly, Sokka took a step. And another step. Faster. Soon, he was running, dashing through the streets, leaping and whooping and all around rejoicing. Oh, did people look on to laugh? Let them! Let everyone rejoice!
When the sheer glee finally wore off and transformed into exultant confidence, Sokka strutted around town, taking in the sights. A tannery, a playground, even a market! He hollered to people he knew by name and cheerfully greeted a good day to those he didn't. He may have lost count of the number of men he had seen, but what truly blew him away was the fact that they saw him.
He was a man now. Sokka could cry.
That wasn't to say that this wondrous dream wasn't full of other delights. One particularly joyous occasion was when an entire group of girls waved at him from a fountain ledge. "Hi Sokka!" they chorused, batting their eyelashes. With a dorky smile on his face, Sokka waved back.
"Hello, ladies." He swaggered up to them. Time to turn on the charm. "How are you doing on this..." click of the tongue and flourish, hands suavely pointing, "...fine morning?"
They giggled. Sokka had never heard a sweeter sound.
"Good," "Nice," "Very well," they answered and abruptly exploded into questions.
"Why were you so worked up earlier? Did you hit another eureka?"
"How's you're girlfriend? The Kyoshi Warrior?" He vaguely wondered how the two were related but dismissed that thought for oh sweet whale blubber he had a girlfriend!
"Ooh, ooh, tell us about that time you saved an Earth Kingdom village!"
Now this was all extremely flattering but he was being a little bombarded here so if his brain could just lay out all these wonderful surprises slowly—
Then, the sweetest sound Sokka had ever heard just got a worthy contender.
"Fresh meat!" a woman's voice called. "Whale blubber, sea-bird chowder, come and eat!"
Trying not to show his impatience, he turned to his adoring crowd. "Ladies, ladies. You'll get your fill of Sokka soon enough. But first, Sokka has to fill himself up."
He ran faster than he thought was possible. Sure enough, next to a woman tending to a stove was, bar the feast in the festivals of plentiful years long gone, the finest selection of both raw and cooked meats that Sokka had ever seen.
He immediately grabbed some assorted seafood-on-a-stick and chomped. Then he grabbed another, and another, and ten more, because even if he hadn't been meat-starved, this tasted amazing.
The woman bearing the food—Sokka didn't recognize her—looked worried. "Are you sure you should be eating so quickly? You don't seem to be swallowing."
"It's okay," he rambled in between gulps. "My digestion works fast. Mmm, this is so good. Do you have more?"
Eventually, he learned that he had to pay for the delicious meat, and his perfect dream became not so perfect after all.
...
This was a ruse, Zuko decided. A convoluted plot to lure him into a fall sense of security, embarrass him and, and make him out to be a traitor for fraternizing with the enemy, all so he would permanently lose his place in the line of succession!
Azula must be behind this!
He wasn't sure how Azula manipulated him and that waterbender—Katara, his treacherous mind supplied—into—into sleeping together, but he was fairly certain that she did. After all, it wasn't enough that his sister was a prodigy. She was a people person, too. She was probably sitting back, laughing at him as she had her nails done, comfortably warm in a luxury sauna inside that... pointy oval... thing.
The thing hadn't been strange from a distance in the half-light. However, by the time he rounded a hill a hundred meters away or so, sun well in the sky, it became undeniable that the hulking, red-and-black object was not his ship, and wasn't a ship in the first place.
Feeling dumb—Azula's work, clearly—Zuko turned and stalked in another direction.
"Um," said the Avatar timidly, dragged by the wrists. He jerked his arrowed head to the side. "The city is that way."
He was ignored.
After what felt like an hour of walking in awkward silence, Zuko began to hear sounds of human life. Zuko may have refused to move as Aang directed—a city of enemy savages didn't sound like much of a refuge—but he really didn't want to get stranded on a desert of ice.
An enraged yell and an almighty splash later, Zuko prayed that whoever it was was friendly.
They curved around the elliptical ice wall that blocked their view. When they rounded the bend to the ring's open doorway, there was one person there.
"...id old man, I'll show him—wAH!"
He took it back. Give him the Kyoshi warriors, give him Zhao, give him any of the millions of unfriendly people on the planet. Just don't make it her.
Katara stepped towards them. He froze. The Avatar dashed. Zuko lunged for him but only found wind. Don't leave me alone with her, his dismayed thoughts called. But the Avatar was far gone.
He swallowed. Facing his problems head on had worked for him before, right? Well, sometimes. He took a deep breath and pivoted. He wouldn't flinch, he wouldn't flinch—she was so close—ah, he flinched.
"Hi," Katara said, as if she didn't want him castrated.
"Hi," he said, speaking to her shoulder. When the image of it bare against white fur popped into his mind, he cast his gaze the ground.
"Look, Z-Zuko, um..." There was silence, and he resisted the urge to look to make sure that she wasn't about to stab him. Eyes on the ground. Wasn't that lump of ice interesting? Katara's voice rose. "What date is it?"
It might have as well been a stab. Still not looking. "...Beats me."
"Oh. Can you give me an estimate, then? Week, month..." He didn't know, didn't know. Couldn't she have asked anyone else? The final blow came. "...Year?"
Okay, now he looked, because she was onto him. His eyes narrowed, and his feet shifted to ready for confrontation. He lifted his chin and loomed. "Why do you ask?"
"Nothing!" she squeaked, and then cringed. "Nothing! I... just..."
He was amazed to see her bury her face in her hands and stomp off. Before he could recover, she stormed back up to him like a whiplash, red cheeks puffed and too close.
His mind went into overdrive at her proximity then blanked at her words.
She wailed. "I don't remember anything!" What? "One minute we were camping out together to defeat the Fire Lord, and the next we're married and you're in my bed!"
Defeat the Fire Lord, she said. Then married, she said.
She was still talking, something about the war and relationships and winning. He couldn't hear her because the echoes in his head were too loud.
We're married and you're—
Defeat the Fire Lord—
Together to defeat—
Married in my bed—
She was bound to a tree. He dangled a choker in front of her throat. She said it was her mother's; Uncle said it was for betrothals.
He showed it to the bounty hunter. Jun had a cool tone.
What happened, your girlfriend run off on you?
So this is your girlfriend.
Something prickled at the back of Zuko's senses. It was too quiet. Girlfriend wasn't talking anymore. Girlfriend was biting her lip, expectant. He should say something to Girlfriend.
He moved his mouth to speak and found that it was already open. Then he moved his throat to make a sound and found that someone had beaten him to it.
"YOU," a man howled. Annoying, Zuko recalled.
The next thing he knew was a fall and a world of PAIN.
Author's Note:
That was both excruciating and absolutely glee-inducing to write.
What happened to Zuko? What became of Sokka? Will Katara ever stop screaming? Find out in the next chapter of A Healthy Dose of Forgetfulness!